Gabriel's story
by Shropslass
Summary: From the 2015 film, as seen from Gabriel's point of view. Centres on the conflict he feels when he is with Bathsheba, fighting his need to protect her with his desire to love her. Trying to be a loyal worker, but constantly questioning her choices.
1. Chapter 1

"So, you don't think I would?"

Bathsheba smiled as Gabriel dunked another struggling, bleating animal beneath the surface as the water sprayed and frothed. He tried not to look at her, but he couldn't resist just one quick glance, one glimpse of her sweet smile as she gently teased him. She was intent on distracting him and it was working. His fingers felt ungainly, untrained, as she watched him, almost dropping the next sheep as it struggled to get away.

To his surprise, she handed her shawl to Liddy and waded into the stream, laughing. As she passed the next sheep to him, he touched her hand briefly, but pulled it away as if he had been stung. He liked her being here beside him, but it was impossible to concentrate. She was so alive, so present. Usually she just occupied his thoughts, his dreams, he kept her apart from him. All his dealings with her were formal, organised, but this . . . this was unplanned.

He could tell that all the men around them were aware of her too. The front of her dress was getting wet, accentuating the shape of her. He tried not to look. There was a part of him that felt protective of her, as she laughed and hummed a little song. He wanted to tell her that it wasn't necessary for her to do this, that this was men's work, but he knew that she was making a point, as she always did, that this was her farm, her sheep, her land and that she was as capable and as willing as he was.

Her arm brushed against his and this time he felt the heat from her body radiating towards him, in contrast to the cold water. He tried to laugh as she accidently splashed some water into his face, but he felt too tense, too aware of her. This was like torture.

Then, just as suddenly, she was leaving, thanking all the farm-hands as she waded out again, helped onto the shore by Liddy, who fussed around her like a clucking hen. Gabriel allowed himself a wry chuckle now, seeing the way she walked in her wet clothes towards the house. Not so enthusiastic now, in all her finery, weighted down with sodden petticoats and skirts.

"I think the mistress wearies of this work!" Tom grunted under his breath.

"What the mistress does is of no concern of yours," Gabriel retorted angrily.

"Sorry Gabriel, I meant no harm."

Gabriel was aware of the men exchanging looks and it saddened him. They all knew how he felt about Bathsheba. He could not hide it.

Her words came back to him, from so long ago.

"You'd never be able to tame me."

Perhaps he did not wish to tame her, but to nurture her, let her spirit run free. He would just be an onlooker and an advisor. But sometimes she could be so head strong and irrational, it troubled him. He thought about his own thwarted ambitions and wished that he could go back, start again with Bathsheba by his side. Forget this place. Since the fire, he had felt something threatening, something stirring in the innocuous spring air. For all Bathsheba's bravado, he knew that she needed him to be there for her, to protect her.

He would not leave until she told him to.


	2. Chapter 2

Gabriel's role was to watch and wait. He watched Bathsheba with William Boldwood, watched the way she played with his emotions, sending him the Valentines card, knowing how it would make him feel. Then later, in the barn, enjoying the peace as he worked, she had appeared, looking so oblivious, so cheerful. He tried to ignore her, continuing with his task, but her request seemed like a demand and he couldn't say no.

"Will you show me?"

He felt self-conscious in his shirt with the apron tied loosely around his waist.

"I would not want to get dirt on your fine clothes."

"What this?"

She pulled at the cloth of her dress as if she was wearing a rag.

"Some would think that finery indeed."

She shook her head at him, hands on her hips, looking at him skilfully handling the grinding wheel, making it look easy.

"I want to learn."

She was almost like a child in her stubbornness and he could almost imagine her stamping her foot, yet she smiled at him as if she was aware of her own impatience.

"I must be useful around the place Mr Oak. I must be a good example to the farm-workers."

"You are."

He meant it sincerely, but she looked at him quizzically.

"I think that sometimes you do not approve of me, Mr Oak."

Gabriel stared down at the knife in his hand, running it backwards and forwards against the sharpener, pretending that he did not have an opinion on this. As she came towards him, he stepped back, holding the knife clear. She held out her hand. He did not give it to her.

"I will show you," he said.

She stood in front of the wheel uncertainly and he placed the knife in her hand, immediately conscious of her so close to him. He kept his hand on hers as she lowered the knife and he kept the wheel turning.

"Keep the edge of the knife in the middle."

He gave instructions, looking over her shoulder. Her hand felt small and warm in his. Her hair tickled his chin and smelt of lavender. He could hardly concentrate. It took all his will-power not to put his arm around her waist and hold her steady against him, not to kiss her as she looked up at him saying,

"Am I doing it right?"

"Yes, but keep your eyes on the task!"

"Oh, yes, of course."

As she turned back, she suddenly recoiled, holding her hand to her eye, blinking rapidly. Gabriel lowered her hand away from the wheel and stopped turning it. She looked at him almost angrily as if it was his fault.

"Let me see," he said cupping his hand beneath her chin and tilting back her head.

"I am quite alright!"

She moved away from him so abruptly, Gabriel stepped aside, laying the knife back down. She rubbed her eye, making it worse.

"Please, let me help you," he said quietly, "I would hate it to be known that my guidance succeeded in blinding you."

"It did not!"

She stopped rubbing and blinked at him, breathing heavily.

"I thank you not to interfere."

He looked at her quizzically.

"Interfere?"

"It has come to my attention Mr Oak that you do not approve of my friendship with Mr Boldwood, although what concern it is of yours I do not know."

"It is not your friendship with Mr Boldwood I disapprove of, but rather the way you play with his affections. Do you not think that it is foolish and unkind?"

"No I do not, and it is not your place Mr Oak to speak to me on this matter. I think it would be better if you leave."

Her words stung him and a spark of anger bubbled up inside him, making him blurt out,

"I would prefer to leave at once!"

"Then go. I do not wish to see you around here anymore."

In the glow of the lamplight, her eyes sparkled with tears.

"If that is what you want."

"It is."

"I will go in the morning."

She nodded and turned away, almost stumbling in her haste to get to the door. He had to resist the urge to run after her, to tell her that he was a fool, that he didn't want to leave. He felt that she didn't value him as she should, that she didn't value his opinions, or seek his advice. He felt jealous, seeing how she flirted with Mr Boldwood, but he also felt pity for the man, a widower, not used to the attentions of such an enchanting lady like Bathsheba.

How she infuriated him!

He slammed his fist against the door, making an almost animalistic howl. The morning would come soon enough and he would have to leave. His pride dictated it. He would walk away, into the countryside knowing that he would never see her again. It was unbearable, but maybe the torture would be over, he could only hope for that, long for it. His new life could begin, away from this place.


	3. Chapter 3

Gabriel set out in the morning early, his few possessions packed in his bag. The sun rose, warming the chill air, lighting up the fields with a golden light. He tried to tell himself that he was glad that he was leaving, but he could not. He felt sad. He thought about Bathsheba, her headstrong rebelliousness and wondered who would temper her impetuous actions now. Not Boldwood, he would let Bathsheba do whatever she desired, he was so in love with her. The farm would not prosper without him, he was sure of it, but he could no longer stand by and say nothing.

After several hours, he sat beneath a tree to eat his lunch, feeling the heat of the day settle around him like a cloak. In the distance, he heard the bleating of sheep and he thought about his flock, back at the farm. It was hard to let go, to start again, but he felt determined. He wouldn't let Bathsheba stand in his way. Not this time.

He heard horse's hooves, then suddenly Bathsheba appeared on horseback. She dismounted when she saw him, looking hot and flushed.

"Gabriel, I need your help."

He was stunned, but so incredibly glad to see her. He felt his heart leap in his chest as she stood before him in the blue dress that he liked so much.

"Please don't desert me Gabriel."

"Desert you? You are the one who told me to go."

"Yes, I know, but I need you. The sheep are in trouble and you are the only one who can save them."

He got to his feet, enjoying the moment, the feeling of power he had over her. In a rush, she told him about the sheep, how they got through the fence into a neighbouring field and ate the some of the crops.

"Please Gabriel, if you do not come back, I fear that they will die."

Slowly Gabriel put his hat back on his head and picked up his bag. He took the bridle of the horse from her and climbed up onto the horse. She looked up at him expectantly. He held out his hand. She paused for a moment, then took it and he pulled her up. As the horse walked back to the path, he felt her hands gently on his sides like timid butterflies and he knew that as soon as he pushed the horse to canter, she would not be able to stay on.

"Put your arms around me," he instructed.

Bathsheba moved her hands around him and he felt her body against him, closer still. He urged the horse on, digging his heels into her flanks. The motion caused Bathsheba to lean against him, her head against his back, her arms clinging tightly around his waist. The countryside sped by, all those miles he had walked that morning, single-mindedly putting the past behind him. Is that all it took, for Bathsheba to stand before him and beg him to return? She hadn't even apologised. But he savoured the moment, the jolting friction between their bodies, the pressure of her arms around him. He let himself believe for a moment that she was his, that she was surrendering at last and that they were riding back to the farm where she would let him lift her down from the horse and kiss her the way he had wanted to from the first moment he had set eyes on her.

But it was not to be. After the frantic hours in the fields, surrounded by sick and dying animals it was all Gabriel could do but sit with her, watching the flock that he'd saved. It was dusk, the lamp at her side casting a pool of light, making her skin glow. She looked at him, her brown eyes full of gratitude. He knew that it was accepted that he would stay and despite everything he knew that he would endure it, because Just to see her every day, to speak with her, would be enough. His love for her was like a constant pain, an ache that never went away.


	4. Chapter 4

Gabriel had seen Bathsheba and Troy together and he watched Troy, all show and swagger, making jokes and doing as little as possible. Bathsheba didn't seem to notice. He saw the way that she looked at him, glancing sideways at him when she thought no one was looking. Gabriel had met men like him before, so proud of their status in the regiment, his redcoat like a costume to hide behind. It wasn't just for Bathsheba's sake that Gabriel disliked him, it was Troy's smirking, pompous arrogance as if he was there to perform to them all, making himself as likeable as possible. Making Bathsheba like him. He knew what was happening, but he couldn't stop it. He tried to warn her, but she wouldn't listen.

Gabriel knew that Boldwood had tried to stop the wedding, offered Troy money, but Troy was a dishonourable man and had married Bathsheba in secret. Gabriel lay upon his bed at night, staring up into the dark, trying to think of a way to save her, knowing that it was too late. He loved her still, but how could his love for her rescue her from that man, when she was blinded by his charm? Gabriel knew that he was not an unattractive man, in town he often passed a gaggle of girls, maids from the local farms, giggling and looking at him with admiration. Why could Bathsheba not see what they saw? He tossed and turned upon the mattress, thinking about her, full of longing. He tried not to think about her wedding night with Troy, but images seeped unbidden into his mind. Apart from a few kisses and cuddles with a lass after a harvest, Gabriel had not touched a woman like that. But he was a grown man, he could not wait forever.

Then it was harvest time. Slaving in the hot relentless sun, he watched Troy ride by with Bathsheba by his side, like the lord of the manor. Gabriel wiped his hand across his forehead and stopped momentarily as he saw Bathsheba laugh at something that Troy said, throwing back her head in an almost exaggerated way. Gabriel felt afraid for her. He knew that he must warn her about Troy, even if it meant that she would send him away again.

He approached her at dusk, when he was sure that Troy was at the local tavern drinking. He was ushered into the drawing room by Liddy. Bathsheba seemed startled, turning away from him in the candle light, her chestnut hair glinting with gold. He swallowed, unsure of himself.

"Bathsheba, there is something I must discuss with you."

"Yes? Is the harvest going well? Will we bring it all in before the weather breaks?"

"No, not that. It is about Troy."

Bathsheba looked at him with unconcealed annoyance.

"Please, I do not wish to discuss my husband with you, you have made your feelings plain on that matter. I value your good sense and loyalty, but I do not need your guidance in this Gabriel."

"Please, listen to me - -"

He stepped towards her, his arms outstretched, but she held her ground, her hands on her hips.

"I do not wish to discuss this further. Please go before we both say things we will regret."

Was it his imagination, or was there a hint of shame in her voice? She was an intelligent, confident woman, did she know now that she had made a mistake by marrying Troy? It was obvious now, that Troy had no intention of being involved in the farm. Not once, had he lifted a finger to help during the harvest, preferring to gallop around the countryside on his horse, or ride in his fine carriage. His days were taken up with gambling and drinking, according to the reports that had filtered down to Gabriel by his loyal men, keen to temper the heart ache they knew he must be feeling. But it didn't help.

"He is not an honourable man."

She stared at him with such a look of pleading, that he stopped. Her eyes glinted with tears.

"Please Gabriel."

He twisted his hat in his hands, unsure of himself now and to his surprise she moved towards him and touched his arm.

"You are my loyal friend," she said, trying to smile.

As she looked up at him, he had the overwhelming desire to kiss her, it was almost as if she wanted him to do it as her mouth softly parted and her breath fanned his face. It took all his will power to move away from her, clumsily knocking against a table as he retreated.

As he walked out into the still night air, lit with stars, all he could think about was her sweet face, tilted up towards him in the soft candle light. A knife seemed to twist in his gut as he thought about that man who did not deserve to be her husband. No one would ever love her the way that he did, but he would never be able to show her. He was not a vengeful man, but he wished with all his heart that Troy would leave, be carried off to war, never to return. But Gabriel knew that Troy had left his regiment when he had married Bathsheba. He would never be rid of him.


	5. Chapter 5

The harvest was over, the back-breaking work had ended at last. Gabriel looked up at the clouds gathering above the farm, the signs were not good. They still needed to cover the hay before the rain came, but from inside the house, the unmistakable sounds of the party reached him, already in full swing. He didn't feel like celebrating, but he knew he would have to show his face.

As he entered the room, he saw Troy kissing Bathsheba, gripping her to him in an overly flamboyant way as if to say, "look everyone, your mistress is mine!" Gabriel turned away, his hands in fists, to be accosted by two local girls, he did not know their names, who talked excitedly to him for several minutes. He looked across at Bathsheba who was watching him, a smile on her face as if she was happy for him to have admirers. Perhaps she thought that now she was married he too would fall in love with the first pretty maid that came along and get married. He hardly paid attention to what they said, conscious only of Bathsheba across the room as she talked animatedly to the lady next to her.

He sat down to dinner, looking distractedly out of the window at the darkening sky. In a lull in the conversation, Gabriel warned the party that there was a storm coming. Troy interrupted him, laughing at his suggestion.

"There will be no rain tonight," he said, "I will not allow it"

Troy was obviously drunk, his face red and his eyes unfocused. Gabriel wanted to retort that Troy would be no use to him anyway, but he carried on eating, noting Bathsheba's look of dismay and her worried glance towards the window.

"Come," Troy exclaimed, holding his tankard aloft and spilling his drink, "we will have more wine and spirits, more ale and more dancing. I insist upon it."

The servants hurried away and for a moment Bathsheba looked like she might try to stop them, but she did not. In the corner, the music started up again, a well-known reel. Troy clapped his hands, like a child.

"Come my love," he said, stumbling to his feet and holding his hand out to Bathsheba. "Dance with me."

"Please Frank," she said, obviously embarrassed. "Maybe we should do as Gabriel suggests?"

Troy laughed, a hollow, cruel sound that made something tighten in Gabriel's chest.

"Am I not your master? Come, I say, dance with me, and bring ale, lots of it!"

"Please Frank - -"

A shadow passed over Troy's face as he looked at her with unconcealed anger.

"Very well then, take yourself away women and take the rest of the women with you. I do not need you here, I will make merry without you."

Bathsheba looked shocked, but she tried to hide it. As she rose to her feet, gesturing for the women to join her, Gabriel also stood, unable to stay there a moment longer. Troy was practically sneering at him as he held out his tankard to be filled with more spirits. Gabriel walked to the door without looking back.

Outside it was starting to rain. He ran to the barn to get the canvas to cover the hay, but he already knew how futile it would be to try to do it alone. He dragged the ladder across as the rain hit him full force in the face as he struggled with the sheet of canvas as it was buffeted by the wind. He climbed to the top and began to methodically tie the sheets across, a very slow difficult process by himself as the music filtered out from the house as if to mock him.

"Gabriel!"

It was Bathsheba, climbing up the ladder to help him. As she reached the top, she almost lost her balance and he held her hands, steadying her. She laughed, her hair whirling about her face, the rain soaking them both. In that moment, he felt that she recognised their connection, their companionship, as her hands gripped his and she stared back into his eyes.

"Gabriel," she said again, almost in wonderment.

"Help me," he said simply.

Together they began to tie the canvas onto the bales and little by little as the hours past, they succeeded in covering them all. Eventually, exhausted and soaked through Gabriel helped Bathsheba down from the ladder and they stood for a moment surveying their work. Bathsheba's hair was plastered to the sides of her face and the front of her dress was drenched. In the dim light, beneath the shelter of the barn, she suddenly turned to him and said,

"Oh Gabriel, I've been such a fool."

How could he answer her? She stood so close to him, almost touching. She was married and was tied to Troy. Why couldn't she have seen past Troy's bravado and seen his true nature before now, before it was too late?

"You have been loyal Gabriel, you are my one true friend."


	6. Chapter 6

The party was over. Gabriel watched Troy from a distance as his gambling and drinking increased. In town, he watched him talking to a lass that he had seen Troy with before called Fanny Robin, her youth and beauty ravished by hunger and poverty. If Troy had married Bathsheba for her money then he was not trying to hide it now, for he was obviously intimate with Fanny. Whenever he saw Bathsheba she looked distracted and unhappy, but Gabriel knew it was not his place to talk to her. If she wanted his help, she would have to come to him.

He remembered seeing Bathsheba for the first time all those long months ago, riding her horse beneath the trees, lying down to pass beneath the branches. She had seemed so carefree and vibrant. He had been bewitched with her from that moment on. She still possessed a strong resolve, but she had changed since marrying Troy, she was sadder, troubled. It pained him to see her suffering. Would she refuse his offer of marriage now if she was free? Sometimes he caught her looking at him as he worked around the farm, his trusty dog at his heels. Did she see something in him now that she hadn't seen before? Was she imagining what her life might have been like if she had married him instead of Troy?

One day, he met her in the lane behind the house. She seemed startled to see him, nervous even, as the wind rippled through the trees, softly stirring her hair as it spilled out from beneath the hood of her cloak. He had not spoken to her properly since the night of the storm.

"Gabriel."

She bowed her head slightly in a formal way which amused him, because it was like she was deferring to him even though she was the master and he the servant.

"I suppose you are glad that I am suffering," she said sadly. "Frank is angry with me as I will not give him money to pay for his gambling debts."

"I am sorry to hear that."

"Oh Gabriel," she said wretchedly, "I am sure Frank has a secret, he has been acting so strangely lately. We do not speak to each other anymore and he hides everything from me. I do not know where he goes or who he meets."

Gabriel thought of Fanny Robin, but said nothing.

"One day you will desert me too."

Bathsheba stared up at him, a fearful look on her face. He knew that he should reassure her, but what she said was true.

"I must confess, I am not content to be a shepherd for the rest of my life, but for now, I will stay by your side."

"Will you? Will you really Gabriel?"

"You know I worry about you too much to leave you to suffer at his hands."

He watched the slow blush spread up from her neck to her cheeks.

"You have always been the one who was loyal to me Gabriel and I do not deserve it. I have done what I said I would never do, I fell for a man in a red uniform, like a simple lass without thought of the consequences."

"You are not at fault, he tricked you."

"But wasn't I your first love? Were you not mine?"

She gazed at him so earnestly he felt tongue tied and uncertain. The lane seemed suddenly very quiet with just the two of the them standing there. Her words, although exciting, made him feel nervous.

She stepped closer until he felt her hot breath fanning his skin where his shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. She touched him, brushing her hand down his shirt front, touching the buttons one by one. He could not move. He was full of conflicting emotions; guilt, confusion and desire. Why did she tease him so? Did she not realise that he was a man with the same wants and needs as any common man?

"I believe you are too shy to answer me Gabriel."

"You presume too much."

She frowned at his tone, tugging lightly on a button. Their eyes locked and something primitive passed between them making him feel on fire. As if in a dream, he heard a horse and carriage in the lane behind them, as it made slow progress towards them. She stepped away from him almost regretfully.

"Are you expecting someone?" he asked her, looking at the approaching man, seated in front of the wagon, dressed in black.

"No."

As the wagon neared them, Gabriel saw the coffin on the back. The man saluted them.

"This be the last known place of abode for this poor maid," he said gesturing to the coffin behind him.

"But who can it be?" Bathsheba asked in a bewildered tone. "I know of no one who has died around these parts."

"Her name is Fanny Robin, but tis no concern of mine," said the man, "I was told to bring her here."

He wielded his whip, making the horse trudge on as slowly as before, not waiting for a reply.

Bathsheba stared after it, shivering suddenly in the cool evening air.

"I know who that is," she murmured, "she was a servant of my uncle, we must allow the coffin to be brought into the house."

"I will see to it."

Gabriel strode away, hoping to get there before Bathsheba did. He caught up with the wagon as if turned into the courtyard, the horse's feet clattering on the stones. He called for men to help lift the coffin into the parlour. It was only when the coffin was placed in the still, airless room that he saw the name _Fanny Robin_ and next to it the words _and child._ Quickly, as he heard Bathsheba's voice in the hall, he rubbed out the incriminating words with his sleeve.


	7. Chapter 7

Gabriel could not bear to see Bathsheba so upset. He kept remembering Troy's words to Bathsheba when he saw Fanny in the coffin next to her baby.

"Even in death Fanny means more to me than you ever could."

Bathsheba had looked stricken, staring distractedly around the room as if she could not bear to meet Gabriel's eyes. Troy had kissed Fanny as she lay there, the final act of insult.

"Am I not your wife?" Bathsheba pleaded.

Troy just laughed.

Gabriel was glad that Troy had gone, feared drowned, his uniform found by the shore. He continued with his work, trying to hide his feelings. Bathsheba was in mourning, her black widow's weeds accentuating her pale skin, the dark shadows under her eyes. Gabriel resisted the urge to go to her and tell her how he felt, he knew it wouldn't be right, not yet. With Troy gone, nothing stood in his way anymore, but he could not persuade himself to ask her to marry him. He feared her rejection. He lay in his bad at night and dreamt of holding her and kissing her. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't stop the images that raced through his mind. As the man next to him lay snoring only feet away, Gabriel shifted on his thin mattress, unable to quench the fire that burned within him. He wanted her so badly.

He imagined them together in a hay field after the harvest, lying together beneath a cart, in the shade. He smoothed her hair away from her face and kissed her gently, feeling her warm soft body beneath him. He allowed himself to imagine his fingers caressing the buttons on the front of her gown, teasing her, just like she had done to him. Unlike her however, he would be bolder, he would undo those buttons one by one, pushing his fingers under the material of her gown, caressing her. "Oh Gabriel," she would sigh. He would make her want him, the same way that he wanted her, until she would be clinging to him, begging him to love her. And he would love her, he would love her so passionately that she would never want another man.

Gabriel moaned and the man stirred. Gabriel froze, but soon he heard familiar snores as he turned onto his back. He knew that what he was doing was wrong. At church on Sunday, the priest preached from the altar about chastity and innocence. There was no innocence in Gabriel's thoughts. The release he longed for could not come quick enough.

The next day he was summoned to Boldwood's house, to be surprised by his offer to be his new Bailiff.

"It would be a good partnership," Boldwood said in his amicable manner, patting Gabriel on the shoulder, "and the farm will be saved when the two properties are joined together."

"Thank you for your offer, but I must think upon it."

"Very well."

"Has Bathsheba agreed to this?" Gabriel enquired, flattered by Boldwood's belief in him, but also suspicious of his motives.

"I have asked her to marry me, she promises to give me an answer."

Gabriel turned away, not wanting to hear more. If Boldwood had proposed to Bathsheba again, this time she would not find it so easy to refuse him. The farm had been almost bankrupted by Troy's excesses.

"I am to throw a Christmas party here at the house. I hope you will attend."

Boldwood's words were kind, but Gabriel did not answer. He knew he must appear surly and ill-mannered, but he picked up his hat and bowed his head slightly. His only thought was to get out of the house, ride away across the fields and try to clear his head.

"Goodbye Gabriel, I hope you will agree to my offer, it will be in your own best interest."

"Will it?"

Boldwood smiled at him a little ruefully.

"I think so. Bathsheba has had a difficult marriage, but now she is free from that man. My only desire is to make her happy. I think you will agree with me that she deserves that?"

"Yes, she deserves that, but she is an independent woman, you might find it hard to work with her."

"My wife will not work. Bathsheba will not want for anything."

Boldwood gestured to the room around him, adorned with expensive antiques and pictures, high-backed velvet chairs and an ornately carved oak table. Gabriel knew that he could not begin to compete, but he also knew that Boldwood underestimated Bathsheba's willingness to relinquish her interest in the farm.

"Good day to you Sir," Gabriel said cordially, not wishing to say more in case he offended him.

"Good day."

Outside in the fresh morning air, Gabriel took deep lungfuls of air, striding across to his horse. The stable boy handed him the reins and Gabriel put his foot into the stirrup and swung his leg over the saddle. He dug his heels into the horse's flanks harder than he intended to and she reared up, almost throwing him to the ground. Gabriel calmed her, patting her neck and speaking gently to her. He hadn't meant to startle her, it was his frustration getting the better of him.

"Good girl," he said, as she trotted out of the courtyard and down the tree-lined driveway.

He was glad to get away from the opulence and finery of that house and back to the more austere surroundings that he was used to. He wondered if Bathsheba felt that way too. If so, there was still hope that she might refuse Boldwood.


	8. Chapter 8

Dancing couples whirled around the room as the frenzied music picked up an even faster pace. Boldwood stood before the fireplace surveying the crowd, a proud expression on his face. Gabriel watched him, wondering if his countenance hinted at a secret knowledge. Had Bathsheba accepted him?

Gabriel did not dance. He could not. He watched Bathsheba dance with Boldwood, hating the way they laughed together, watching her throw back her head so that the blue ribbon tying her hair slipped off onto the floor. When he thought no one was looking he went to retrieve it and slipped it into his pocket.

"Come Gabriel," Boldwood said jovially, "are you not dancing?"

Gabriel blushed thinking that Boldwood had seen him pick up the ribbon.

"No sir."

"Why not indeed? Are there no comely maids here to tempt you?"

Gabriel blushed deeper, thinking that Boldwood was teasing him.

"No, it's not that - -."

"Come, I think I know your secret."

Boldwood gestured towards Bathsheba as she moved through the crowd. Too embarrassed to disagree, Gabriel merely stared back at him. Boldwood put an almost fatherly hand on his shoulder.

"I completely understand."

Before Gabriel had time to argue, Boldwood beckoned Bathsheba to join them.

"You must dance together, I insist."

Bathsheba looked up at Gabriel a mischievous smile on her face as if daring him. He was about to refuse but her manner spurred him on. He held out his hand.

The musicians launched into a hornpipe and Gabriel whisked Bathsheba away, his arm around her waist. She was a nimble dancer and they were good dancing partners, their bodies in perfect harmony with each another. Did he imagine it or did she press herself against him and stare up into his face, her lips parted from her excursions? Her face was flushed, her cheeks a rosy red as her hair tumbled around her shoulders. She seemed almost wild, untamed. His heart picked up a pace almost in time with the frenzied music as she twirled beneath his outstretched arm. Her hands moved around his neck, fingers touching his hair at the back. She didn't seem to care that everyone was watching, including Boldwood. He put his hands on her waist and she laughed, almost hysterically.

"Oh Gabriel!"

They danced down the line as people clapped in time with the music and he couldn't help smiling in happiness. Just for this one night, she was his girl, he could believe it. As they reached the last couple however, she suddenly pulled away from him and moved through the crowd to the door. He could tell that she was upset. He went after her, drawn towards her by an invisible force.

Outside, there was no trace of her, so he called her name and looked for her, walking in the direction of the stables. All was quiet, the servants all enjoying the music within the house. As he rounded the corner of the building he caught sight of her, standing in the moonlight. She looked at him as if she had been waiting for him, her eyes bright and full of tears. Without a word, he went to her and pulled her against him, his mouth searching for hers. He buried his hand in her hair at the back as he kissed her hungrily, feeling her body echo the need that he felt for her as they fell back against the wall. When at last their lips parted she said his name again, almost in agony. He kissed her throat, feeling her shiver in the cool night air as his mouth searched for that tender hollow at the base of her neck. She moaned softly.

"I've been such a fool."

He silenced her with another kiss. When they parted, she stared up at him with a frightened expression on her face.

"What will I do Gabriel? I cannot accept Boldwood's offer of marriage. He will hate me."

"No one could hate you."

"But I think I have given him the wrong impression. I do not think he will understand."

"He will understand, he knows."

"What does he know?"

"The way I feel about you."

They kissed again, almost as if they couldn't get enough of each other. It was forbidden fruit, their bodies hindered by layers of clothing and the deep-seated morality of the times. Eventually, she pulled away from him, telling him that she must return to the party.

"Don't go."

"I must."

He clung to her hand as she attempted to walk away, but with a smile she shook him off. He watched her until she disappeared around the corner and his heart sank. Nothing had been resolved. She must first break the news to Boldwood. Gabriel felt guilty as he remembered Boldwood's hand upon his shoulder, his understanding words.

In the distance, he heard shouting, then the terrifying sound of gun-shot.


	9. Chapter 9

Some say that Frank Troy deserved his fate, but Gabriel did not believe that. He might have disliked Troy, but he never wished him dead. It was said in the town that soon Boldwood will be released from the prison as it was a crime of passion. Gabriel did not intent to wait until that happened and Bathsheba married Boldwood out of gratitude. He would away to America to make a new life for himself, to forget this place and the woman who had stolen his heart. He knew that he should be angry with her but she had never lied to him. Her faults were few. It was her impetuous nature that had lead her astray.

Bathsheba's face was unreadable when he told her of his plans last night, standing before her in the parlour, hat in hand. They had not spoken properly since the party, since the kiss. He felt the colour rising in his cheeks, struggling to make his voice sound steady.

"I think it will be for the best," he said firmly.

Bathsheba nodded, a small frown creasing the space between her eyebrows. She looked tired and sad.

"So, America is the promised land?"

"It is said that if you work hard there then you can prosper."

"Then you will surely prosper Gabriel," she said quickly, turning away from him.

She picked up an ornament from the sideboard and then put it down again. A light breeze fluttered the curtain, moving her hair. For a moment neither of them spoke.

"I wish you well," she said at last, her voice so low that he almost missed her words.

"Thankyou."

"When will you go?"

"I leave in the morning."

"The morning?"

She looked startled and he thought that she might ask him to stay longer.

"The harvest is finished; the sheep are shorn, now is a good time for me to go."

"I will not delay you then."

He heard the slight irritation in her words, but he bowed his head slightly.

"I hope you find what you are looking for," she said bitterly.

He almost apologised, then stopped himself. What would he be apologising for?

"Goodbye Gabriel."

She held out her hand and he took it. Her hand felt very small in his. It was such a formal act, so different from when they had touched each other before, clinging to each other in the dark. He did not notice that he was still holding her hand in his until she pulled away.

Then it was the morning and he set out reluctantly, leaving the farm behind him. He could not look back, for he feared that he would not be able to continue. He was leaving everything that he had grown to love behind him, but the future beckoned, spurring him on, step by step.

As he reached the top of a hill, he paused to watch the sun slowly rising, bathing everything in a golden glow. He tried not to feel sad. Far away, he saw a figure on horseback, riding towards him. It was only as she appeared on the other side of a small coppice that he realised that it was Bathsheba. He waited for her to reach him, then watched as she dismounted, looking flushed and breathless.

"Gabriel - -"

He waited for her to speak.

She looked around her, panting, then stared at him with her dark brown eyes.

"You must not go."

"Why is that? Are the sheep in danger? Will there be a storm or a fire? Or is it merely that you forbid me?"

"Please Gabriel."

He was enjoying this, he watched her nervously shuffle from one foot to the other, holding the reins of the horse in her hand. Her eyes beseeched him.

"Tell me," he said, "tell me why you want me to stay."

"You know why."

"Tell me."

He moved towards her and their eyes locked. This time he would not let her go so easily.

"I - -, I need you to stay."

He put his hand on the side of her face, feeling her tremble at his touch. He moved his thumb beneath her chin and tilted her face up towards him slightly. She closed her eyes, waiting for him to kiss her. He paused. She opened her eyes, blinking up at him, for once totally powerless. He moved his thumb across her lips and she gasped, parting them slightly. It took all his will-power not to press his mouth to hers.

"Why?"

"I love you."

He smiled and moved towards her, kissing her passionately, feeling her submitting to him at last, giving in. The horse shifted as they leaned against her, but they were intent only on the moment, the contact between them. Her mouth was soft beneath his and he felt the echoing pressure of her body as he held her. When they parted at last he said softly,

"If I thought that you would let me love you and marry you and care for you, I would."

She said almost shyly,

"You never ask me, ask me again Gabriel."

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes!"

He kissed her again. He felt like he was flying above himself, looking down, as he strained her to him. This was all that he had dreamed about. The only thing stopping him from pushing her down in the grass and loving her the way that he wanted to was society. But what did he care about that? Wasn't she his girl? Hadn't she agreed to be his wife? As if sensing his loss of control, Bathsheba pushed her face into his chest and for a moment they were locked in an embrace, struggling to regain composure, breathing hard.

"I'm sorry," he said gruffly, "but we must be married as soon as possible."

She looked up at him, nodding earnestly.

"Yes Gabriel."

He was the master now.

Behind them the sun rose on a new day, full of hope and promise. As they walked back to the farm hand in hand they talked about their marriage, their new life together. For him, it could not come quickly enough.

He intended to spend the rest of his life loving her.


	10. Wedding Night

The Wedding Night.

He was giddy with happiness as he stared at Bathsheba, her face obscured by the fine lace of her veil. Behind them, the congregation stirred in anticipation as the vicar said solemnly,

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Gabriel heard the familiar laugh as Bathsheba tilted back her head to look at him. He grasped the veil in his hand and pushed it back over her head. He didn't care that everyone was watching. He embraced her, kissing her full on the mouth for everyone to see. Behind them everyone clapped and cheered.

Then it was on to the reception back at the house, with dancing and wine for everyone. As he whirled her around the floor, he felt like his heart would burst with pride. His beautiful wife, Bathsheba. His.

"Oh Gabriel, I must stop now, you have exhausted me!" Bathsheba laughed as she drew away from him.

He was sad to let her go. He wanted to be near her, to feel her warmth, her sweet feminine charms. He felt clumsy beside her, even though he was often complimented on his dancing. He wasn't used to women, his life as a shepherd had often been lonely. He thought about the coming night with anticipation, but also apprehension. He wanted her, but he was afraid of hurting her. She seemed so delicate compared to him.

Then it was midnight and everyone was crowding around them to wish them well. They were staying the night at a local inn before travelling onto Exeter for the Honeymoon. As Gabriel helped Bathsheba into the waiting carriage, she turned to throw her wedding bouquet and Liddy caught it, much to everyone's delight. Gabriel stumbled into the carriage after her, a little worse for wear after the three tankards of cider he had drunk. As they waved and called out goodbye, the carriage jolted forwards almost knocking them from their feet. Laughing, Bathsheba sank back onto the seat next to him, her dress floating around her like a cloud.

"That was the best wedding!" she said excitedly turning to look at him, her brown eyes glittering with glee.

He thought about Troy, about the wedding that had gone before, but he took her hand in his and lowered his eyes so that she wouldn't see the look in his eyes. Perhaps sensing his sadness, she touched his face, running her fingers through his beard so that he had to look at her.

"You are the only man for me," she whispered harshly.

"I'm glad."

They smiled at each other. He kissed her gently, pulling her onto his lap as the carriage jostled them, swaying down the lane in the dark. He heard her sigh as he tangled his hand in her hair at the back, kissing down her throat with little kisses.

"I love you so much Gabriel," she murmured.

"I love you too."

He couldn't wait now to be at the Inn, to hold her and love her. His whole being seemed to cry out to be with her, as if he had been waiting all his life for this moment. To be a man. He couldn't put into words how he felt as she snuggled against him, resting her head on his shoulder. His desire for her seeped through him like a flame, licking at his body greedily as she closed her eyes and dozed. He couldn't sleep. He felt like all his senses were aroused. He held her, feeling wide awake, until they reached their destination.

As the horse clattered into the courtyard, Bathsheba awoke with a start.

"Are we here?" she asked.

He wondered if there was a degree of reticence in her words, but he couldn't make out her expression in the dark. When he helped her out of the carriage and into the inn, there was only the innkeeper to greet them, patting Gabriel on the back and smiling too heartily for Gabriel not to feel embarrassed.

"I expect the young miss will be tired after the days merriment," he said, watching Bathsheba admiringly as she climbed the stairs to the floor above. "Will you partake of some porter while the lady retires?"

Gabriel, unsure of himself, realised just in time that he must wait for Bathsheba to prepare herself before he joined her.

"Thankyou."

He followed the man into a panelled room, decorated with hunting pictures and stuffed trophy heads of deer and wild-boar. It was not to his taste. As the Inn-keeper held court before the fire-place relating how he had met and married his good lady wife, Gabriel began to feel distinctly uncomfortable.

"She was a rum sort of girl," the man said, winking grotesquely, his face flushed from drink, "but she understood her duty."

Gabriel swigged back the last of the thick, heavy liquid and excused himself.

"I fear I must retire also," he said, yawning extravagantly.

"Yes, don't keep the little miss waiting, eh?" he winked again, and much to his annoyance, Gabriel felt himself blushing.

He climbed the stairs slowly, not wishing to startle her. Had he given her enough time? When he pushed open the door however, everything was silent and still and the room was in darkness. He carried the candle before him, lighting the unfamiliar space and spied the bed in the corner under the window. As he approached he saw that her eyes were closed and her hand was thrown back over her forehead. She was asleep.

He retreated behind the screen and undressed like a man about to dive into the sea to save someone from drowning. His hands were shaking as he thrust his nightgown over his head. His desire now, was like a hindrance, something to be ashamed of, as he approached the bedside, his hands folded in front of him protectively. The candle cast shadows onto the walls, flickering in the draft as he slowly lowered himself into the bed next to her. She stirred slightly as he moved down beneath the blanket, feeling the soft mattress give under his weight, making her roll towards him. His heart was pounding in his chest and he struggled to calm his breathing. He felt clumsy and ungainly and very nervous.

"Gabriel," she murmured softly, turning towards him. "I wondered where you were."

She sighed with satisfaction and nuzzled into him. Oh God, he thought, as she ran her fingers through his hair. It was like a wild animal had claimed him, as the redhot lick of desire travelled up his body. The bed springs squeaked as he pushed against her, aware of the thin layer of clothing between them. He could feel her warm, feminine body pressed up against him as he allowed his hands to travel down her body, touching her. He kissed her deeply and she moaned. It surprised him that she seemed to like him so much, as she touched his biceps and his chest as he positioned himself above her. He felt her hands pulling at his gown almost feverishly and he sensed her desire for him. She pulled him down to her, wrapping her arms around him. It was too much.

"Will you tame me now Gabriel?" she begged.

"I will."

It was over so quickly. Too quickly. But she was kind, kissing him fondly and telling him that this was just the beginning.

"We've got our whole lives ahead of us Gabriel," she said happily.

As he settled down next to her, he tried not to mind. He felt a deep exhaustion as he closed his eyes. In the distance, he heard a church bell chime the hour and the wind rattling against the window pane. He put his arms around her. He would keep her safe.

As he slipped into sleep, he felt her lips kiss his closed eyelids, like the trace of a butterfly's wings.


End file.
